Switch
by Lapis Love
Summary: AH/AU; You know how men and women are characterized in chicklit/romance, well almost in every genre? In this tale, Bonnie is the brooding alpha to Damon's wilting wallflower who is unaware of his Disney prince good looks. This is inspired by an article I read on twitter. Meant as humor.


**A/N: Been lacking any real inspiration to write these days, but today I saw a post on twitter posing this scenario: (what if) women wrote men the way men write women. Though to be fair, women can also do a horrendous job at writing men and women. I digress. This is intended for comical reasons, not to be political or challenge any gender structures etc. I just wanted to see how things would go if I were to write Bonnie how men are often written to be in chicklit, and Damon is written as how women are written about. I hope you enjoy.**

Disclaimer: I disclaim. The plot, what little there is, is mine.

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HER NOSE crinkled. No visible dick print in his jeans; not a total deal breaker (it was, she was just feeling charitable tonight). He had mile long legs, a plus, bulging biceps that were probably rock hard but soft to the touch. His nipples tented the fabric of his shirt deliciously enough. His pecks were more than a handful, another check in his favor. He appeared completely out of his element. There was just something very green about him that made her cock an eyebrow in interest. With time and practice she figured she could turn him into an outstanding lover, coming when she ordered, panting her name in a way that made her clit that much harder. She loved it when they squirmed and trembled beneath her, when they came apart at her touch or even at something as innocuous as a look. She would keep her eye out for him if nothing else panned out.

It had been a satisfying and successful week of business meetings and elbow rubbing, but now she needed something to take the edge off. To rinse away the grime of corporate politics. Hence, why she was at here at her playground of sorts where, if she snapped her fingers, a line would wrap around the building of willing partners, each of them primed and ready to let her do whatever dirty deed she wanted to them.

What used to get her juices flowing now bored her. Sometimes easy wasn't always fun.

The patrons mixed, mingled, and several moved sensually for her viewing pleasure, doing all but stripping out of their suits and ties, offering themselves up on a platter. Desperate fools.

She swiveled on the stool, glanced down the end of the gleaming bar, and noticed a trio of men huddled close together over their drinks, throwing her furtive looks. One blushed and looked away when she caught him staring. The one in the middle gave her a bold and definitive come hither look. She had always been partial to guys with big…egos. He was probably the flirty one, the one who took risks and chances. He might be the one she took home and fucked to death, but again she wasn't yet ready to decide who would please her. The last guy held her steady gaze the longest. There was something stoic in his eyes that called to her. More than likely he already decided that he wasn't her type and that she had no interest in him. He would just look, get his fill, and return home to sit in front of the tube to Netflix and chill by himself. Or with man's best friend. Fido.

Or was that a challenge there? Was he daring her to break him? Bend him into whatever shape pleased her? Use him and dare to walk and stay away? Hmm.

He averted his gaze and pushed his glass tumbler back and forth between his hands. Nervous? Impatient? She leaned back as far as she could go and got a look at his ass. _Nice_.

She picked right then and there he was the one she wanted. With a crook of her finger she summoned a bartender who promptly dashed to her, and braced his forearms on the bar top, squeezing his pecks together, hoping she'd take a peek.

"Yes, Ms. Bennett? How can I be of service?" he smiled and batted his lashes flirtatiously.

Regardless of the number of times she rebuffed him, said in not so many words she wasn't going to screw him, Zen still ingratiated himself to her. The more she said no, the more he wanted to turn that into a maybe until, eventually, a yes. Besides his body and pussy sucking lips, Zen was not her type. He made himself too available, giving himself away to anyone who simply tossed him a compliment. He could tout he was only in it for a good time, but how long until he started dropping hints about exclusivity and relationships?

She shuddered at the thought. She was not looking to settle down. Ever, if she could help it. "Can you have a couple of bottles of champagne sent up to the Villeneuve room? Tell him," she hitched her chin at the brunette with the muscular ass, "I'd like to share a drink with him. The guy in the black romper."

Zen tried to control the pout to his lips as admirably as he could, but there was no mistaking the disappointment in his doe brown eyes. Disappointment that almost tipped over into anger until he remembered who _she_ was. Everyone knew better than to cop an attitude with her. One word from her mouth could spell the utter destruction of someone's career or life.

"Give him this card," she reached into her clutch and retrieved a platinum coated card that acted as an all access pass to the upper echelon of the club.

Zen hesitated but he swallowed and nodded stiffly when she arched that left eyebrow. He took the card and went off to do her bidding, shoulders slumped in defeat.

She smiled and rose to her feet. Like most other nights, she knew she wouldn't be going home alone.

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DAMON SALVATORE COULD not say he was having a good time. He had gone all out tonight. Getting his balls waxed, suffering through having his eyebrows threaded, and he splurged on his outfit and shoes. He knew he looked good, but the only person to approach him, he got serious creep vibes from. His friends, Cade and Lucien, were enjoying themselves thoroughly having been asked repeatedly to dance, getting drinks bought for them left from right.

He had forgotten how much he hated clubs and the pressures it put on the masses to grind on the dance floor that might lead to grinding in the bedroom. It had been a while since he had sex. And though his friends goaded him to just get out there and let his hair down, he held back because he believed sex should involve more than just body parts. It should mean something. Be special.

Although…

He wouldn't mind if he was used. He wouldn't mind having a meaningless one night stand. Sneaking out of a house or apartment to do the walk of shame with pride. He hadn't let loose in six months. His biological clock kept right on ticking, and he knew he wasn't getting any younger. However, he just wanted to have a bit of fun. No strings. No commitments. No feelings.

Damon nursed his drink as he thought of his last few relationships. One girlfriend cheated on him, which it took a while to recover from, and definitely made it harder for him to trust. But he did. The next person to come along, it didn't take long for him to discover he was dead last on her list of priorities.

He questioned if he had been too needy, clingy, too desperate. Too thirsty. He tried to control that but it wasn't always easy because with each failed relationship, it made his insecurities mount.

Too many times Damon caught himself reliving blunders of past mistakes. What if he had been less of that and more of this? What if he tried new things without complaining too much? What if he climbed out of the books he preferred to spending actual time with people, maybe then his significant others wouldn't abandon him emotionally or physically? What if he tried to be like other men? What if he wore less and went out more?

What he needed to do, he knew he wouldn't find any answers in the bottom of his glass.

Suddenly, Damon felt a tingle down his spine. Curious. That only happened when someone stupid beautiful and out of his league was around.

He glanced up and blinked. His heart stopped. He was looking at honestly the most beautiful women he had ever seen. For a second Damon refused to believe she was real. No one's skin glowed like that in a semi-darkened nightclub. She had to be a fallen angel or a deity parading around in human skin. He had never seen anyone like her and doubt he'd ever come across her type of etherealness again. Blood rushed to his cheeks, but he couldn't look away although his brain was ordering him to do so NOW.

Hopeless, he knew it would be hopeless. Women like her didn't go for guys like him. She probably dated GQ models and athletes, maybe even movie stars. Someone affluent and had the kind of looks that were drooled over, coveted, and replicated through cosmetic surgery. Damon knew he did okay in the looks department. There were areas of his body he thought could use some work. His stomach wasn't as washboard as it had been a couple of years ago, and his thighs could benefit from a few rounds on the stair climber, he mused. In short, he didn't believe he'd make a blip on her radar.

Yet he figured now would be the perfect time to keep one of his promises to himself. He wouldn't scurry off into a corner, melt into the shadows like a typical wallflower. He had nothing to lose. Right?

So, he held gazes with her steadily, curious about what she thought of him and if he met any of her standards. Wondered if she deemed him good enough to maybe take home and force him down on a table, or take him up against a wall. Dominant screamed from her presence. The thought made his pecs swell beneath the fabric of his romper. His groin warmed. It had been an absurdly long time since he had such a visceral reaction, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew the effect she had on his body was dangerous.

He hadn't missed the way she eyed his two friends. Typical. He was used to being passed over in favor of Cade's milk chocolate bald head, or Lucien's full lips. Just this once he'd like to be singled out, chosen as the special one. Already he could feel his shoulders slumping in impending defeat. That was never going to happen, he sighed in dismay. Just as well.

After a minute he broke eye contact and pushed his tumbler back and forth between his hands. Hands that had become clammy just from that quick exchange.

Something shiny caught his eye. Damon stared at the platinum card that had been placed on the bar's surface, unsure of its meaning. Brow furrowed, he glanced up and came face to face with a bartender who was busting out of his t-shirt. The bar keep's pecs seemed to judder and flex even with him standing completely still. He sneered at Damon though it was apparent he was trying to retain some level of cordiality and professionalism.

"My patroness Ms. Bennett would like you to join her upstairs in the Villeneuve Room for drinks and conversation. Use that card to gain access. And before you ask, no, it's not a request."

Damon's mouth plopped open. "Was she…was she the one sitting at the end of the bar?"

"Yes," Zen answered gloomily. "She doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Damon heard Cade and Lucien take a pause from the verbal sparring they had been engaged in. A bet really in which one of them could convince the beautiful woman at the other end of the bar to buy them a drink.

Automatically Damon's eyes flew to where he saw her. The woman who made him forget how to think clearly and feel like a virgin for five seconds. She was gone. He checked around the club and saw no sign of her, but his gaze dashed up and saw a woman climbing the stairs like she owned them. Was it her?

She wanted _him_ to join her? There had to have been some mistake. Stuff like this didn't happen to him.

"Excuse me," Lucien waved his hands around. "Do you mean the lass who was seated at the other end of the bar wants him to join her in VIP?" he laughed blithely.

Heat and embarrassment burned the back of Damon's neck. He knew what Lucien had been implying from his tone. There had always been something of a rivalry between them. A rivalry Damon hardly participated in half the time because he had other things to do like work and pay bills.

The bartender nodded solemnly making it no secret he wish it were him.

"Knock it off, Lucien," Cade came to Damon's defense as he normally did. "A win for Damon is a win for all us," he winked.

"I'm not sure it works that way," Damon mumbled yet picked up the card. He ran the pad of his thumb over the engraved words that were written in French. He wondered what it said.

Lucien scoffed and gulped down the rest of his drink, throat working angrily. "Fuck. I was just about to approach her and she hauls off and invites you. Unbelievable."

Cade shook his head, "Deal with it, asshole," and with that drew Damon away. "Let me talk to you for a second."

When the two found a semi-quiet space to have a tête-à-tête, Cade was thankful for his rich melanin otherwise his flushed cheeks would be on full display. He was geeking the hell out, but tried to play it cool. He took his role as being the mature and sensible one very seriously in his group of misfits. He watched his brother from another mother struggle with his sudden fortune, sensing Damon was working himself up and would talk himself out of a great opportunity. Cade was not about to let that happen.

Damon nibbled a corner of his lip, switched his weight on his feet. "Maybe…maybe I shouldn't accept. I think she made a mistake."

"She doesn't make mistakes," Cade said succinctly.

That gave Damon pause. He hiked an eyebrow. "How do you know? You know who she is?"

Cade nodded and smiled a little at a passing woman who appraised him from head to toe and licked her lips. He slipped his hands into his pant pocket and focused back on Damon. "Bonnie Bennett is the fifth richest woman in the world. Her family has deep roots here and she's CEO of the largest holistic pharmaceutical company on the east coast. She's legit, a real deal. I didn't say any of this to Lucien while we were talking because he's bit of a gold digging whore," he hefted a shoulder sheepishly.

Damon said nothing to refute that because he knew it was true. Lucien chased status like lionesses chased prey. However, he swallowed thickly at the fact someone of Bonnie Bennett's prestige wanted to have a drink with him. It just wasn't computing.

"What am I supposed to say to someone like her?" Damon asked. Cade was the more experienced of their group.

"Just be yourself. Clearly she saw something about you that she wants to get to know better. Just go with it. Don't overthink it. You got this, Damon. I mean, she's just a person, what could go wrong?"

"I could say something completely mortifying or offensive and she knees my balls."

"Well," the corners of Cade's mouth pulled down. "There is that. But just go in with a positive attitude."

"But what if…"

"Damon…you got this. You're an empowered man. You can do this."

"All right," Damon nodded absently. "I guess…don't wait for me. I'll find a way home."

"I could stay," Cade offered.

"No, I should be fine. If anything goes south, I'll just call an Uber."

"Fine. But, text if you need an out beforehand."

The two hugged it out. Damon was glad he had a friend like Cade. Someone he could be himself with, who didn't judge—much, and who gave it to him straight, no chaser. He walked a few paces, stopped, and inhaled a deep breath. He had no idea what would happen in the next ten minutes, but made a promise not shy away from it, to be confident. To be open.

His life just very well may change.

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BONNIE BENNETT KNEW he would come. Not many denied her, turned down her offer to be wined and dined, carted on her arm like a polished and groomed accessory that she lavished with gifts and tokens of good faith. Not her love. Never her love. Affection was something she dished out if she were in a particular mood, but was not part of her everyday lifestyle. Running an empire left little room for softness, and the only muscle relaxant she ever needed was a powerful orgasm and a glass of her favorite bourbon.

Besides it was too soon to be thinking about any of that. First, she had to see if her instincts had been right again.

The keypad next to the door…the red light flashed to green. The special access card had been swiped and the door slowly crept open.

Bonnie had just popped the cork on a bottle of Dom, but she didn't face her guest. He had seemed the skittish type at the bar. Unaware of the effect he had on the senses. Timid and frigid weren't the types Bonnie usually went after. She preferred men that exuded a certain level of gravitas, and who didn't mind sharing her with work obligations, and…other people. If she caught a hint of anyone flipping their script becoming clingy or codependent, she showed them the curb so fast they went prematurely grey.

Yet there was something about the stranger in the romper. He hadn't devoured her hungrily like his brunette friend who made no bones about what he wanted, nor had he slyly checked her out like his bald friend.

She wondered about the stranger's experience. She'd know soon enough if he could fuck or not. If he couldn't…? Well she'd cross that bridge when she got there. However, something pulled in her that she couldn't name, urging her not to give up on him so quickly as she had done to others.

Bonnie shook whatever that was off with a frown. No way would she change her standards.

Damon's eyes had been wide the entire trip across the club, up the winding staircase after showing the platinum card to the bouncer. They had grown considerably bigger as he sauntered down a dark hall that appeared to be part of a mansion rather than a club.

He checked each door he came across looking for the one marked Villeneuve. When he found it, his nerves shattered, and his hands shook. He could barely stand still.

"You can do this. It's just a drink."

Damon, at first, tried to open the door to find it wouldn't budge. Feeling a little slow, he realized he needed to swipe the card in order to gain access to the room.

Once he did, the door clicked open, and again Damon hesitated. What if she didn't like him? What if he took too long to arrive and she changed her mind? What if, seeing him up close she'd be turned off with his looks?

Only one way to find out.

Damon crept inside.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. The room was more like a bedroom, and not one you'd find in a bordello. It was artfully designed and decorated showing the owner's taste for detail. There were a group of lounge chairs around a low table that faced a large, flat screen television. Adjacent to the settee was fully stocked bar. To his right was a pool table.

It was the bed, however, that caught and held Damon's attention the longest. It was large enough to fit four or five comfortably and sat on a raised dais. The bed itself was pushed up against a red tufted wall. Above the bed was some kind of…contraption.

Okay so he took back his thought the room didn't remind him of a bordello.

Finally, he focused on Bonnie. The thought he was standing in a room with the fifth richest woman in the world made him dizzy and strangely aroused. He felt his penis quiver at the thought she wanted to spend time with him. This was still so surreal.

He swallowed again and shyly tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. An ear he was sure was beet red.

Unsure, Damon fidgeted as he stood a little ways in the room, not sure if it were okay to come closer. Yes, he realized she wanted him there, but with her back still turned to him, he figured he was intruding and was about to apologize and offer to come back.

She must have sensed that he was two seconds from fleeing. Bonnie lowered what Damon could now make out as a champagne bottle. His throat hadn't worked properly the whole trip up here, but suddenly he was dying of thirst.

He ignored that now that he was closer to her, could see her better. Her stature, her legs, the way she carried herself belied her 5'2" height. Her hourglass shape was highlighted in an impeccably designed suit that was probably custom made with the softest of fabric in existence.

Her brown skin absorbed and reflected the light, feline shaped green eyes made her look as if she were perpetually telling someone to 'suck my pussy'; her straight nose with wide nostrils led to a full mouth covered in dark matte lipstick. She had a round face, a little neck balanced on straight shoulders. She stood across from him, formidable, feet shoulder length apart buzzing with animalistic grace and self-assurance. She was the kind of woman he usually visualized as he worked his hands into his briefs and diddled himself until he came.

Bonnie held out the glass she poured champagne into, "Thirsty?"

Nodding rapidly, Damon ambled closer. "I could use a drink, Ms. Bennett."

"Ah, you know my name."

"Just your last."

"Well, you're going to have to earn the first. Drink?"

As he approached she made no bones about staring at the size of his bulge. Impressive. And it wasn't just his bulge that met with her approval. His entire package really. His long legs that were just hairy enough, his tampered waist that would fit perfectly between her thighs as she rode him, his chest that stretched out his romper enticingly, and those arms. She pictured the way they would grip her as she ripped pleas from his kiss swollen lips for her to take his dick. Yes, he would more than do for tonight.

Damon's fingers overlapped hers as he accepted the glass. He gasped having felt a spark, a zap of electricity the second their skin made contact. His eyes had grown bigger, cheeks reddened.

"Thank you," Damon rasped and daintingly took a sip of the beverage. He didn't want Bonnie to think he was a lush.

Smirking, Bonnie patted herself on the back. She didn't show any outward reaction to that brief skin-to-skin contact, though she couldn't lie and say it didn't go straight to her clit. She cleared her throat and then motioned toward one of the couches, remembering to smile to put her guest at ease. Oftentimes she'd been told and lauded for having too direct a gaze.

Damon settled a respectable distance away on the sofa and placed his drink on the table. He floundered for a moment because he had no idea what to say. Still second-guessing if he should be here. He crossed his legs causing the hem of his romper to ride up and show more thigh. He caught Bonnie staring at it.

Bonnie angled her body toward Damon. His reticence was refreshing. She couldn't recall the last time someone had quaked a little in her presence.

"It's quiet," Damon remarked. It was so quiet he felt his thoughts could be heard.

"I could turn on some music," Bonnie suggested.

The sound of her voice was sultry and resonant. It was the kind of voice that commanded boardrooms, and now plied with the knowledge that's exactly what she did for a living, Damon felt little by comparison. How could this important woman see anything of interest in him?

"Music would be great," Damon said. "Whatever you want to listen to is fine with me."

"You're agreeable. I like that."

Damon blushed and looked away.

Bonnie grinned, picked up a tablet and with a push of a few buttons, neo soul began wafting from the hidden speakers.

"So…"

"So," Bonnie repeated.

"This is my first time up here," Damon volunteered and immediately felt like an idiot. She probably knew that.

"I would hope so. I would hope that no one else has invited you to one of these private rooms."

Damon moistened his lip. "Why?"

"Because I want you all to myself. I don't want to come across anyone else who's had you."

Damon's brows lifted. "Had me? You mean…"

Bonnie placed her hand on his arm, felt the muscles bunch underneath. "Damon…relax."

"You know my name? How do you…I never told you my name," he squeaked.

Bonnie smiled showing perfectly white teeth. Damon melted a little at that smile. Though they were virtual strangers there was something about Bonnie that was putting him at ease.

"This is my club and anyone I invite up here I learn what I can about them before they swipe that card in the door."

"Should I be worried?"

"Probably."

"What do you want from me? I mean…I'm not all that interesting."

Bonnie lightly gripped his jaw between her forefinger and thumb, "Let me be the judge of that. As for what I want from you I think that's more than obvious. I have no interest in playing games. My time is very valuable. And very short. I only have a few hours a week to use at my leisure and I want to spend those few hours with you, Damon."

"Okay," he said slowly. "What will we do?"

Bonnie tilted her head in such a way that a lock of hair fell over her right eye, obscuring it completely. "Fuck."

 **A/N: I'm marking this as complete for now. Again, this was just an experiment. Hope no one was offended and if anything I hope this was able to garner a laugh or two. Thanks for reading. If you're interested let me know what you think.**


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